


If He'd Let Me

by bookreader93



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, I will normalize Snagrid I swear to God, M/M, Snagrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-04 08:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17301341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookreader93/pseuds/bookreader93
Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, two lonely souls have experienced a bit of a change in situation. How close will it bring the dirty boy from an unhappy family and the half-giant that just doesn't quite fit?





	1. Chapter 1

The door to the dungeon gave a sudden loud BOOM, yet even with its volume, Severus could hear in it the shyness of his old friend.  
“Come in, Hagrid,” he called.  
The door swung open and Hagrid shuffled through the door as carefully as he could. Hagrid was always a clumsy, clunky sort of man, until he entered the potions master’s office. Then, he was almost more gentle and delicate than Severus himself was. Even with his caution, there was still a small tinkle of one of the any glass bottles wobbling as Hagrid’s large body knocked against it.  
“Sorry, Professor,” he muttered, looking at the ground.  
“Please; you needn’t apologize. Nothing was broken, and it wasn’t intentional.” Though he struggled to admit it to himself certainly would never admit it aloud, Severus pitied Hagrid, and it broke his heart to see him so ill at ease with himself. In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, it seemed that he and Hagrid had experienced something of a reversal of roles. Potter…Harry (he would get used to this change eventually)…had made sure that the truth of his deeds was known, and while he certainly wasn’t being showered with the same sickly-sweet admiration as Harry (thank Merlin), he was at least seen as no worse than he’d been before, or even marginally better. Hagrid, on the other hand, was half of a species which had clearly allied itself with the Dark Lord. It had taken him his entire life trying to fight down the stigma of being half-giant, only to have it turned against him at the first opportunity.  
Not that anyone was outright shunning him; Hagrid was too good a person for anyone to do so without looking the bad guy (which they would be). But even Severus, who rarely spent his free time outside of his office, had seen the increase in eye-rolls when Hagrid had to try too hard to squeeze into the stands at the Quidditch pitch, had heard the irritation and insincerity that now existed behind each “don’t worry, it’s fine” when Hagrid knocked something over because its owner had been careless. He had always against his will been the least irritated with Hagrid’s presence out of all the staff members, unless you counted Minerva, which Severus didn’t, because Minerva would be there whether or not her presence irritated him (he supposed he should be grateful for that, though. Without her persistence, he would not have sought help for himself, and the memories of his past would still be plaguing him).  
Unable to bear watching the misery and isolation take root in another innocent soul, Severus found himself inviting Hagrid to tea one day, and before he knew it once became every week and now it was almost nightly. The more he got to know Hagrid, the fonder of him he grew, and Severus was now rather afraid to acknowledge the depths of his feelings for him. After all, it had been a long time since he’d even secretly opened himself this much to another…not since Lily…and he’d never before offered himself in any manner that didn’t leave him rejected or as nothing more than a tool to complete another wizard’s bidding for some greater good. He had made significant progress with piecing what he could of himself together, but he didn’t think he could survive the brokenness that always comes with rejection, and Hagrid was sure to do so. No one had ever really wanted him before, and adding a few extra perspectives changed neither his story nor his desirability, or lack of.  
“Sir?”  
Severus looked up and reminded himself of where he was and what had brought his mind to this.  
“My apologies, Hagrid. You find me a bid distracted at present.” He pulled a black, leather-bound book from his shelf, opened it, and in the secret compartment within he pulled a dark green, worn leather tome with slightly peeling gold letters that read Oliver Twist.  
“If’n ye’d rather, I can leave,” Hagrid offered timidly. “I don’ mean teh be a bother teh ye…”  
“You’re not a bother,” Severus promised in a soft voice; in so little time they’d already taught him that his presence was to be tolerated, not desired or sought after. He knew Hagrid would offer a dozen more times but he didn’t mind; this was what his friend needed right now. “Are you ready for the next chapter?”  
“If’n yeh don’ mind.”  
“I would not have offered otherwise.”  
Hagrid sat in the large armchair tentatively. “Yeh never did say why ye chose this book,” he prompted.  
Severus smiled. “Masochistic catharsis,” he answered, taking his seat by Hagrid.  
Hagrid stared.  
“It is rather painful for me, but I find it helps,” he explained.  
Hagrid blushed, and Severus realized he’d embarrassed his friend. Casting around for another change of subject, he noted, “You never told me why you wanted me to read to you.”  
“I like yer voice better’n mine,” he said simply, gong even redder. I wish I’d been smart enough the read the way ye do.”  
Severus felt his heart break again.  
“Rubeus,” he began, and he watched Hagrid look at him curiously. You were unjustly expelled at thirteen, and you were given no chance to finish that education once your name was cleared. You are not stupid, you are uneducated, and it is the school’s fault that you were failed by…by people who should not have failed you.”  
Hagrid was quiet for a moment.  
“I know yeh see Dumbledore as failen’ yeh,” he said.  
Severus nodded. Hagrid knew by now all about what he’d suffered at the hands of James and his gang, and there was no need to go into the details of how Albus had ignored and excused the abuse, or the bitterness Severus still felt for him.  
“He failed us both,” Severus said. “And Headmaster Dippett failed you as well. They were unwilling to listen to a dirty boy from an unhappy home, and they were unwilling to give benefit of doubt or admit fault to a half-…” he stopped, but Hagrid’s face changed to a sad, whiskery sort of smile, and Severus knew that what he had stopped himself from saying had been said anyway.  
“Even if they’da kept me or let me back in, doubt Idda made much of a wizard.”  
“I think you’d have been brilliant, given a real chance,” Severus said before he could stop himself, “you were a Slytherin, after all.”  
Hagrid blushed crimson.  
Severus was not trying to use his Legillimency. He simply meant to open his book when he felt a sudden, very intense gratitude and attraction that did not belong to him. Loudly and clearly he heard, in Hagrid’s voice:  
I’d kiss him if I thought he’d let me.  
Severus turned and gaped. Hagrid’s face hadn’t changed from its sad smile, but suddenly the sadness meant something different. Now it wasn’t sad that he’d been failed for being different. Now it was sad that he wanted to open his lonely, unloved heart to someone that he knew would never accept him.  
Exactly as Severus did.  
“Rubeus,” he whispered, “do you mean it?”  
Rubeus’ face became a confused frown.  
“Mean what?”  
Severus stood and slowly moved until he was in front of his friend. Standing up he was only slightly taller than Rubeus was sitting.  
Severus’ hands snaked into Rubeus’ thick, messy curls. Before he could talk himself out of it, his lips covered Rubeus’ briefly. When they broke apart, he whispered, “I will let you.” Then, as if he meant to do it all along, he curled up on Rubeus’ lap, opening his book to the latest chapter, this time snuggled comfortably in the arms of someone who cared…


	2. Chapter 2

“There has to be something, Minerva.”  
“I have tried, Severus. The school governors will not permit-”  
“Hang the school governors, every last one of them!”  
“Severus!”  
Severus did not care that he was being loud. He did not care if he was being disrespectful, and he did not care that Minerva was glaring at him over her square spectacles with such a disapproving look in her eyes. He was boiling with a rage he’d rarely felt in his life, and for the second time in his life, he was finding it difficult to maintain control. He hadn’t been this close to losing himself since the night he’d had to kill Albus, when Potter…Harry…had taunted him, just like his father, calling him a coward and lashing out without first understanding why Severus had done what he had.  
“You know this is not fair, Minerva,” he said, his voice shaking with rage. “and yet you still-”  
“What would you have me do?” she asked, taking her seat behind her desk. She looked uncomfortable, as though even she did not like the answer she’d given, but there was still a stony edge to her voice that said she would not yield, whatever she might wish.  
“You are the headmistress!”  
“And I am bound by the word of the governors!” she snapped. “I have certain freedoms, but if the governors tell me that they will not allow Hagrid to be readmitted to Hogwarts than I cannot go against them!”  
Severus folded his arms behind his back. “You didn’t used to be so weak, Minerva,” he sneered.  
Minerva McGonagall was not a woman used to being called weak, or being sneered at. At Severus’ words she was on her feet again, her want just barely emerging from beneath her robes.  
“Watch your tongue, Severus,” she warned. “I do not care for their decision either, but the rule is not mine to break, nor is it mine to change. If you have nothing left for me but insults, I would suggest you leave.”  
“But it was your place to change rules before, when it suited you, wasn’t it?”  
Severus hadn’t meant to let that slip out. He was dancing closer and closer to his line of control, and he needed to pull himself together. Deep breath in, deep breath out.  
Screw it.  
“You could bend the rules so that Potter could get on the Quidditch team instead of getting a detention for breaking the rules. You let him and his friend Weasley off with detention when they crashed a Whomping Willow into a tree…”  
“Why should you resent any punishments or lack of from Harry and his friends?” she asked.  
“Because it was just more of the same patterns from before!” He could feel his face flushing, twisting in anger. He turned, looking out the window to avoid McGonagall’s eyes.  
There was a long silence. “Severus,” she at last said quietly. “I couldn’t stop what happened to you anymore than I can change what was decided about Hagrid.”  
The grounds were lovely. It was a warm autumn day, and the leaves on the trees were beginning to fall. A few students were taking advantage of their afternoon off to go swimming in the lake, being chased good-naturedly by the giant squid, who would lift them up out of the water, curl its tentacles, and let them slide down the tentacle and splash back into the water as though they were in a Muggle theme park. Hagrid was striding through the grounds, completing his usual jungle of chores. Students that he passed stared at him as he walked, some with an unashamed sort of interest, as though Hagrid was a zoo attraction. Some curled away, as though they expected the monster to pounce any minute. The students all saw him the way the school governors did; too big and too dangerous to be allowed.  
“You knew,” he said, “you knew I’d done nothing to deserve what they did. You knew that they only treated me that way because I was a Slytherin, because I was poor, because I was friends with a girl he wanted.” He turned to face her, his own mood back under control, his face glossed over with its usual cold indifference. “You could have told Dumbledore at any time, but you chose not to. You punished them with detentions and loss of house points for choking me with soap and dragging me through the grounds by my ankles, and…” he stopped. He still wasn’t ready to talk about the worst of what James Potter had put him through. “You taught them that they were more important than I was. When they nearly killed me with that werewolf prank, Lupin got an apology and I got a warning to keep my mouth shut. How was that fair to anyone?” He glanced back to the grounds. “Hagrid did not open the Chamber. Dumbledore knew that when he was first accused, and Headmaster Dippett never bothered to get to know his half-giant students well enough to know that he’d never hurt anyone. He looked at the handsome face of his favorite smart student and stopped listening to anyone else. Dumbledore was headmaster here for decades, and yet he never tried to help Hagrid finish his education. He was content to let Hagrid live in shame and feel guilty for something he didn’t do. He taught Hagrid to be content with the injustice, to feel lucky that at least he was allowed to be the groundskeeper and occasionally teach a Care of Magical Creatures class. How was that fair to him?”  
Minerva listened to everything Severus said, and he could tell that she was listening, because her eyes were bright and there were thin trails of silver on her cheek.  
“Severus…” she began.  
“Do what you must, Headmistress,” Severus said, his icy tone returned. “If your decision is to stand with the school board than go ahead. I, however, will do as I have done since I first began to teach here. I will do what I know to be the right thing, even if it does not necessarily fit with the neat and tidy rules of those who have never known injustice or had the system designed against them.”  
And without another word, He turned on his heel and swept from the room, shutting the door behind him with a decisive snap.


	3. Chapter 3

“Professor?”  
Severus looked up from the essays he was grading, watching as Potter…Harry…stepped cautiously over the threshold to his office. Like most of the other students here, his robes were black, but he wore a purple and gold badge on his chest, identifying him as one of the House of Merlin, the house created for the students who had missed the majority of their seventh year because of the Wizarding War. How infuriating it was, Severus thought, that this boy was given a second chance at finishing his schooling when it had been his decision to leave in the first place, and yet others who had done no wrong had been stripped of that same right.  
“Be quick, Potter,” he said, making an effort to thaw his usual frosty voice. This was not James; this was Harry. “I have work to do.”  
Harry’s demeanor towards Severus had changed almost overnight since the Last Battle. Before he had always looked at him as Snape, the cold, unfeeling, bullying man that had hated his father, and had acted in kind. Now, he saw Severus differently, though Severus still hadn’t decided if this was a good thing. He seemed perpetually guilty and almost unsure, as if he knew something was wrong but didn’t know what to do about the problem.  
“Well?” Severus asked when Harry remained silent.  
Harry took a deep breath. “I…I just wanted to tell you…” He raised his eyes, and Severus felt Harry’s mind open to his, so that Severus could feel the confusion as well as the honesty when he spoke. “I’m sorry, Professor.”  
Severus felt an eyebrow raise. “For what?”  
Harry cautiously took a step further. “For how I behaved all this time,” he said. “I…” He paused, and then suddenly blurted, “I acted like a git. You were just trying to keep me alive all this time, and even after I found out what really happened between you and my dad, I still acted like a git. I shouldn’t have found out the way I did, and I should have apologized to you a long time ago.” He took another deep breath. “I want you to know, no matter how I acted towards you after, I never agreed with what I saw in that memory. I never did and still don’t think my dad was right for what he did.”  
Severus felt as though the floor had dropped out from under him. Of all the things he expected…but Harry was looking at him anxiously and he knew he had to say something.  
“You,” he said at last, “were not the only one at fault for the way we treated each other the last several years.”  
Harry looked relieved and grateful all at once, and Severus wondered if this was the first time he’d ever spoken to an adult in this way. Was this the first for both of them? And his eyes; the look in his eyes was almost more than Severus could stand…half admiration, half relief, and Severus for the first time found that he could look at this young man as Harry Potter. How could he have ever thought this kind (if sometimes unbearably arrogant and attention-seeking) soul had ever been anything but Lily’s son?  
The moment was becoming far too intense for Severus. “I see your potions has improved marginally,” he mentioned, looking away from Harry and back at his papers. “How nice to see that our celebrity has finally decided to pay attention.”  
Harry chuckled, understanding the reason for the jab and taking it in stride.  
“If you have nothing else, Potter, I would suggest you return to your dormitory. Potions tomorrow will not be an easy task.”  
“Yes, sir.” Harry was almost to the door when he turned back. “Sir?”  
Severus raised his eyes.  
“If you have a time when you’re not busy…could we…I mean…I’d like to talk about… about my mum…sometime.”  
Severus managed to hide his shock, but after taking a few moments to collect himself, he found that he had nodded. “I have Friday afternoons free until dinner, as do the members of Merlin’s House. That might be a convenient time.”  
“And…sir?”  
“Yes?”  
Harry looked pale, but determined. “I…I was on my way to see Professor McGonagall a few days ago…and I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”  
Severus was almost certain that Harry could help overhearing him, but he said nothing.  
Harry crossed the room and slowly pulled something from his robes, laying it carefully on Severus’ desk. “If you’re planning what I think you are, you’ll need this.”  
It was a wand. Fourteen inches long (he estimated) and the handle carved into what looked like a pinecone.  
“I’m sure you know by now that I tell everything to Ron and Hermione,” Harry said in what was almost a casual voice. “We want you to know, if you are planning to, we stand behind you. This wand belonged to Fred Weasley. Ron and George both think he’d want Hagrid to use it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hagrid had seemed confused and almost afraid when Severus first brought up the idea of private tutoring over a chapter of Oliver Twist.  
“Yeh…Yeh aren’t worried I’d break summat?” he asked, looking as though he was waiting to wake up from a dream.  
Severus shook his head. “You cannot break anything in this room that is not easily replaced,” he promised.  
Hagrid stared at the wand in his hand, the wand Severus had given him at the beginning of the conversation. “They ain’t about teh let me back in,” he said.  
“No,” Severus agreed. “They would not, no matter how hard I tried. So, naturally, we will not tell them what we are doing.”  
Hagrid laughed nervously. “I…I don’ wanna bother yeh…an’ I’ll probably make a lotta mistakes…”  
“There is nothing wrong with making mistakes, Rubeus.” He loved being the only one to call him that. “Mistakes are how one learns. As long as the mistake is not born from you not paying attention to the instructions I give you, I will not be angry, you have my word.” He put a hand over Hagrid’s, a little unnerved by how much he liked the look of his long, elegant hands on top of Hagrid’s calloused, steady, honest ones. “I will not be an easy teacher for you, but if you want to do this, then I promise I will teach you as best I can.”  
Huge tears began to leak from Hagrid’s beetle-black eyes, and he nodded silently.  
Severus stood and wrapped Hagrid in an embrace as best as he could; he could just barely touch his hands together behind Hagrid’s neck. Hagrid had seemed surprised for a moment, and then his large, warm hands caressed Severus, one sliding softly up and down his back and the other cradling Severus’ head. It had been only a few weeks since that first kiss, and their fondness for each other was flourishing, but it was still strange for both of them to be touched in this manner, in a way that could only be interpreted as genuine affection. Hagrid was not used to anyone wanting this close to him, or trusting his hands enough to allow him to show any sort of care, and Severus had long ago been trained to understand that any sort of touch would be painful and often humiliating as well. It was a nice feeling for both of them, for Severus to find someone to whom he could give even just this small bit of trust and not have it betrayed, for Hagrid to have someone who was so very unafraid of him.   
When the kiss came this time, neither was surprised; they had yet to admit it to each other, but they had both accepted that this friendship was no longer a friendship only, and even if they didn’t quite know what it was yet, they each knew without having to ask the other that they’d see it through until the end.   
If Severus was honest with himself, he was almost afraid of how hard and how fast he was falling for Hagrid. He had never really been able to see himself with anyone that way, and when he had managed to conjure up an acceptable suitor it was someone who was much as he was; eloquent and intelligent, with very few if any displays of emotion regardless of the keenness of their feeling, and most importantly, someone who understood that right does not always mean good and good does not always mean right.   
Hagrid was anything but this image; although he had an intelligent enough mind, he was the last person one could describe as eloquent. Aside from Harry, Hagrid was by far the most emotional person he’d ever met, forever controlled by what his heart said, even if his brain told him otherwise. The sharper his feeling, the more explosive his reaction, for good or ill. Hagrid knew that Severus had suffered at the hands of others, and had never tried to excuse or justify what had happened to him, yet he still held a fondness in his heart for those that had hurt him. He knew that Dumbledore had failed the pair of them, and yet he still visited Dumbledore’s grave weekly, bringing flowers and tears each time. Severus could find no easy explanation except Hagrid was not mourning for the loss of the people themselves, but rather mourning for the loss of the people he’d known before the truth about them had been revealed.  
And yet here Severus was, in the arms of this dearest of hearts, feeling himself grow warm and content at the kiss and wishing it would never stop.  
But stop it did, as he knew it would eventually, and after a warm and wonderful if slightly awkward silence between them, their lessons began.

Hagrid proved to be a remarkable student. Severus had started him out with first-year level spells and potions, thinking it best to review before starting anything new, but he was quickly astonished at how much Hagrid remembered after so much time out of practice. Within a month they had moved on to second-year work, and in another they were back to Hagrid’s third year. Severus wished he could give his…Hagrid…a more in-depth and more complete education, but the truth of the matter was that he lacked knowledge and time. He made up for his lack in knowledge by looking through his old school books, as well as books he took from the library when “Madam Pince” was there, watching over her precious tomes and keeping them safe from the students’ destructive hands. Time, however, he could not give more of; he was still after all the potions master. Even if he taught Hagrid one year’s worth of material each year, he still had seven years’ worth of students to teach during the day, all different curricula, all different homework and assignments to grade and plan. And then still there were Friday afternoons, which next to these evenings with Hagrid were to Severus’ reluctance were becoming his favorite time of the week.   
He and Harry had entered into an awkward sort of truce. It had been agreed without speaking that James Potter was not a name or topic ever to be discussed between them again, and their interactions were much better for it. Mostly they talked about Albus and Lily. Severus was surprised to find that Harry held many of the same confused and unexplored emotions where the old headmaster was concerned that Severus did. Finding out how much he and Harry had had in common all these years, especially when it came to growing up in an unhappy household, Severus found his dislike and even his neutrality of the boy fading away.   
Talking about Lily was easy too, now that he had someone who could truly appreciate how special of a person she was. Harry was eager for any and all stories that Severus had of his mother, and Severus found that for the first time remembering his old friend didn’t hurt him the way it used to.  
For the first time in a very, very long time, Severus Snape didn’t feel alone.  
The only downside was that teaching the entire school potions, spending his free afternoon reminiscing with his best friend’s son, and teaching his almost-boyfriend literally everything he knew or could research about magic sapped quite a bit of the potions master’s free time. Hagrid could only come at night, in order to avoid notice, and even spending only a few hours each night with him, Severus still found himself several nights sitting up until well past dawn, scrawling out notes for lessons and drinking coffee by the pot to keep himself awake enough to accurately grade. Sleep had never been something with which Severus was terribly well acquainted, but now they were even more estranged than before. Severus didn’t mind, though. True, it was hard to maintain the cold and intimidating aura when yawning all through a class, and true he often found himself blinking a little too heavily at the dinner table, but…but it had yet…to take a toll on…on his…health…

“Professor?”


	5. Chapter 5

Severus awoke with a splitting headache, and at first, he was confused, something he didn’t feel often. He couldn’t remember deciding to go to sleep, nor could he remember night having fallen, but it must have, because it had been late afternoon the last time he could remember, and it was now morning. In fact, the last thing he remembered was…  
Severus tried to jump up, to force himself to be alert, but jumping made his head hurt worse and caused the hospital wing to tilt dangerously. He had to gather himself, otherwise he’d be vulnerable…  
“Professor!”  
Severus turned sharply, and dearly wished he hadn’t; there were now at least three Harrys staring at him with wide eyes, their six or seven hands thrown up in alarm, their voices echoing slightly and only serving to increase the pain in Severus’ temples. He groaned and unwillingly sank back heavily.  
“Pleased to see you as well,” Harry muttered, grinning, and Severus could not help but feel a small twinge of pride at the amount of sass in his voice, even if the remark itself wasn’t that clever; the boy really was just like Lily, after all…she was the one who had tried to bring that quality out in Severus. She never had been as good of a verbal sparring partner as his mother had been, but the amount of attitude she could cram into her tone more than made up for her not-so-clever-retorts, and by the time their friendship had ended she had helped him hone that skill considerably, to where it was almost an art form.  
“What is it you want this time, Potter?” he asked, keeping his eyes closed; it made it harder to focus on what Harry was saying, but it felt so nice, and it lessened the searing pain from the bright light pouring through the windows, signaling the arrival of midday.  
“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he answered, and from his tone alone it was plain that he was blushing slightly and avoiding Severus’ eyes. They had made quite a bit of progress in the last few weeks, but not enough that either could openly express a concern for each other without feeling awkward or unnatural.  
“Well, as you can see, I am alive,” Severus groaned softly, and then suddenly, “Potter, will you kindly hand me that bedpan?”  
Harry passed it over, sounding perplexed. “Professor, what-?” but the rest of his question was drown out by the sound of Severus heaving into the bedpan.   
“Are you sick as well?” Harry asked, sounding very nervous.  
Severus shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side, the only movement he could afford. “A side effect of the butcher’s cleaver in my forehead,” he explained. “Your cacophonous comments do not aid the situation.”  
“Sorry, Sir,” he whispered back.  
Severus wanted to ask what had happened to him, but he was uncomfortable revealing that he knew so little about the past several hours. He was not ready to admit such vulnerability to anyone, especially not this boy, not yet.  
But of course, the boy was, as always, too nosy for his own good. “Do you know what happened to you, Sir?”  
Severus did not answer.  
“You…you collapsed…in the middle of a lesson,” Harry said slowly.  
Severus opened his eyes and his mind. Harry’s face was somewhere between scared and apologetic. He knew by now that Harry had no issue with his using Legilimency on him; sometimes it was easier for them to communicate. In his mind’s eye, he saw a vision of himself. He was pacing about the Potions class as usual, watching the House of Merlin students work and pointing out dangerous flaws before they blew up the entire classroom (he knew they wouldn’t, but it gave him a small amount of pleasure to watch them grow steadily more nervous the closer he came to each of them; just because they knew he was not a Death Eater didn’t mean he couldn’t still enjoy some of the pleasures of being that certain cross between admired and feared). He was in the process of inspecting Hermione Granger’s cauldron, making no comment and moving on to Draco Malfoy’s. Mid-stride he slowed suddenly. He blinked heavily. He turned and began to try to make it to his desk, as if he sensed what was about to happen. Harry and Draco realized what was about to happen as well, and they both started to follow their teacher. Severus was within three steps of his desk when he saw his own eyes roll back into his head as he stumbled. Harry and Draco had tried valiantly to catch him, but all that had happened was that they’d managed to turn him so that the back of his head cracked the edge of the desk instead of the front of his head. Both lowered him onto the floor as Hermione Granger ran out of the classroom, presumably to fetch help, because several minutes later Madam Pomfrey arrived with a levitating stretcher. A word stood out clearly in Harry’s memory: exhaustion.  
“I see,” was all he could think to say.  
“Professor…”   
Severus forced himself to concentrate and remain alert. Harry’s voice had changed from worried to almost chastising. Severus would not be chastised.  
“I…” Harry cleared his throat. “I haven’t seen Hagrid in ages,” he said slowly. “And I was thinking…if it wouldn’t be too much of a bother…maybe I could take some of my Defense Against the Dark Arts homework with me? Hagrid might be good help…obviously just in theory, not practical…”  
And then Severus understood. “That…would be one of the few sensible ideas you have had, Potter,” he said.  
Harry grinned, looking relieved and also alarmingly like his father, as if he’d been let in on some exciting mischief.  
“Perhaps Miss Granger could discuss her knowledge of Transfiguration with him sometime…only in theory, of course…”  
“Mal-Draco has an affinity-I mean, a great deal of trouble with Charms. Hagrid would have a lot of background knowledge of Charms…he’s most likely seen several in the Forrest.”  
“Thank you.”  
Severus hadn’t meant to say it, nor had he wanted to say it. It had slipped out somewhere between the migraine and the exhaustion, and he was furious with himself. Harry, thank Merlin, was tactful enough to pretend not to hear.  
“I was told to give you this message from him,” Harry said, laying a large, folded scroll of parchment on the bed by Severus. “He said that these are some herbs and venoms he’d like your advice on; something about a Care of Magical Creatures lesson coming up, and he wanted to make sure it was safe to bring the students around these animals.” And then he left his professor to his thoughts.  
Severus unrolled the parchment, and he felt his heart rise into his throat. The scroll was not a list of venomous herbs, but was in fact a card. A handmade card. Severus had not known that someone with hands as large and bulky as Hagrid’s could make something so delicate, so intricate, so detailed. It was a picture of Hagrid and Severus in Severus’ office, sitting together in the largest armchair, Severus in Hagrid’s lap, reading a book together by the glowing fireplace. Above them were the very untidy words: Please get well soon, but it was not those words that caught Severus or the ones that made the small tears begin to form in his eyes. It was the words below the armchair, where Hagrid had written:

Because I love you, if you’ll let me.


End file.
